


French Exchange

by WarriorOmen



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood, Burning, M/M, Manipulation, Oral Burning, Smoking, Toxic Relationship, prison fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 02:44:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarriorOmen/pseuds/WarriorOmen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Months spent in prison,and Will still won't talk. This time, Hannibal decides to bring him a treat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	French Exchange

“Perhaps you'll talk today, Will?” Hannibal asked, voice betraying only the faintest hint of amusement. “Or shall you continue to spend your hour staring off at the wall as though the bricks might sometime fade and find their pathway about my skull? Encapsulating in what would be of course my ultimate demise?”

Will continued to stare, feet solid about the ground,bent along the knee, rigid as though he were a diagram for a perfect posture manual.

“I see.' A ruffling of clothing followed, minimal, graceful and with little wrinkling on his part. 'Perhaps then I could coax you to speaking, hmm?”

Bribery seemed almost low grade for Hannibal. Easy. Simplistic. 

“You have brought me to such measures.' Lecter answered,as though reading Will's mind. Not that it was shocking, were he not permanently slotted there already?

Chipping away at every fiber of Will's construction. Forming a little niche for himself that served as a cattle prod to Will's subconscious.

No amount of silence could take that away.

'Will.” Hannibal broke through, again. “I've a gift for you.”

Will refused to glance over, refused to look. 

“Will.” His voice came again,even tempered and without infliction. 'Look.”

Another beat passed,and another. The single clock in the hallway of the institution ticked with the echoing loudness of a beating drum, tick, tick, tick. Striking the half past mark and finally, Will glanced over. Eyes searching without his head fully turning about, until his pupils flickered to focus about the single whiteness shining between Hannibal's fingers.

Weakness. Brought to the center of attention and made a reality. Glaring Will in the face and beckoning him forward.

“Come forward' Hannibal coaxed, as though he were speaking to a skittish dog, much like he had what seemed to be a mere lifetime ago. Daring him, elegantly so. “Surely you'd wish for some relief.”

A fish on hook, a puppet on a string. Will brought himself off the bed, moving robotically,intently. Still he would not speak.

“Closer.”

Will glared at him through fringed bangs, “I don't trust you.”

“Nor do you trust yourself.” Hannibal countered. “Come.”

Feet seeming to move of their own accord, Will moved again, until finally he was pressed against the bars, lifting his palm and presenting it through the iron. Hannibal chuckled, though his face seemed not to move with the action.

“Ah ah. I can't be giving you things,you know it's not allowed.'

Will continued to glare, eying Hannibal through a slanted, suspicious gaze. Snarling when he understood what Lecter meant.

Satisfied, Hannibal lifted the short, but oh so tempting poison, slotting it gracefully between annoyingly solid lips and clenching it between teeth that, too Will had always looked a fraction too sharp to belong to any human.

Human. Will's subconscious laughed again. Though he waited, fists clenched at his sides, mouth firmly pressed in a frown, watching the lighter Hannibal had withdrawn bring the cigarette to life, thick grey staring to form around the edge. 

Uninvited, Hannibal reached forward, looking amused when Will attempted to angle his head away.

'Please, Will. Do you want it, or not?”

“I don't trust you.” Will repeated, again. 

“Yes. I know. Come.” 

Lecter's hand was solid,firm about his neck, feeling the steady,dull pulsing of Will's fire tempered blood against his fingers, warm and grounding. Will watched with some level of gross fascination as Lecter inhaled, angling their heads away from the camera and bringing Will's head up to the iron until there were indents left.

One long, elegant finger traced around Will's lips, coaxing him to open, press against the bars and hovering precariously in front of Lecter's own mouth. Bringing them in a sort of stand still between the air. Hannibal curled his tongued,laid it flat until it snaked forward,pressing gently against Will's bottom lip,and blew,softly. Directly.

A moment passed and Will let his gaze travel forward, met the dull amber in the sickening glow of too bright yellow lights, the sweet, toxic air filling his throat and coating his lungs. Coaxed along by an incessant, yet slow finger rubbing slowly against the bottom of his neck, drawing it down. 

When it passed, Lecter drew back only long enough to pull against the stick, focusing his gaze firmly upon Will, breaking through the metaphysical and finding their home in Will's soul, his mind. Warmth coating along the edges of his mouth. 

Hungry now, having already tasted it, Will forced himself closer, a hand lurching through the single opening to grasp at Hannibal's too thick navy coat. Inhaling against him and letting the rich, evil taste consume him, fill him. Sweet and sour in his mouth.

A small sound of surprise forced it's way out when Hannibal's tongue pushed forward, curled around his own and drew the final dregs back into his own mouth, stealing it. Will let out an angry grunt, pulling back with a huff.

Hannibal chuckled, stroking the side of Will's face with his fingers, dragging blunt nails down the side of rough, unshaven stubble and retreating. Again, he gripped the cigarette between his teeth, only this time, he bothered not with coaxing Will forward, he simply grabbed, pushing Will's lips open with the top of his finger,and made him close around the burning, fiery tip.

Heat enveloped Will's mouth, teeth snagging along the edges of the burning paper, feeling the sour taste of ash along his tongue. Lecter's fingers becoming vice like against his neck,pushing along his wind pipe and slowly squeezing. Constricting Will's air supply and forcing the thickness down his throat, expanding in his lungs and dulling his senses.

Anything that was not the single press,the fire or the poison was blurred out, Will's eyes watered,and there,he could feel the devil smirk, soothing him with another squeeze,another push. Another perfect,toxic cloud.

Only when Will whimpered, jerked, did he let go, his veins tight and his mouth aflame. Lecter's tongue brushing up against his teeth, licking there, collecting some of the fibers and bringing them to his own mouth,where they met with the slight remains of the shared smoke. 

Unable to let his conscious give Hannibal the last word, Will dug his nails into the back of that firm, inviting neck, pulling Lecter closer and snagging his bottom lip between his teeth, pushing until he felt warmth and copper against his tongue. Letting out a dull growl of satisfaction when Hannibal's eyes turned stormy, cold and deeply, deeply amused.

“They'll give you a mask for that.” Hannibal warned when Will had pulled back, chasing the traces with his own tongue. 'Should they be made aware.”

“I dare you to try.” Will retorted. “What's one more cage?”

“I suppose we'll just have to wait and see.' Bringing the burnt out stub from his fingers,slipping their way through the bars and depositing the sin to Will's pocket. Allowing his hand a final moment, a final stroke, before he retreated, leaving nothing but fading,low hanging clouds in his wake.

**Author's Note:**

> I blame those smoking set pictures entirely for fueling my extreme smoking kink. I couldn't resist. Probably not the best thing I've written,but it was fun.
> 
> Also, I might be a tease ;)


End file.
